


Those Hidden Places

by Mimiminaj



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Derek, Derek Feels, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, First Time, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Non-con between secondary characters (mentioned), Stiles Takes Care Of Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiminaj/pseuds/Mimiminaj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t belong here.</p><p>It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.</p><p>Or</p><p>Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Hidden Places

**Author's Note:**

> I know very little about our legal system : ). I'll preface the story with that.

**_His First Day_ **

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulder’s him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

The glare the kid sends Lewis’ way is laughable at best, downright suicidal at worst. Derek has always felt an amount of pity for the new inmates. Not knowing who’s who in the hierarchy of the prison is a dangerous thing, and they all need to learn within days who shouldn’t be messed with.

It’s not uncommon for Derek to have to fall asleep listening to a newbie who’s stepped out of line being put in his place. It’s usually either Jameson or Deucalion, who found their following taking over the petty underground cigarette economy and who was ruthless enough to kill three inmates respectively.

They have vastly different methods of showing their dominance, however. Derek’s honestly not sure which one is worse. The newbies cries all sound the same.

Either way, they all go quiet eventually.

The kid decides to not call out Lewis (a very wise decision) and starts heading for the lunch line. He’s skittish, either from too much energy or too many nerves, and Derek can’t help but to sigh a bit. He’s going to get himself noticed if he doesn’t calm down.

“Oh wow, that’s actually better than I expected,” he hears the kid say to the lunch lady. “Like way better. I get that that’s probably not the best of meat or anything, but holy shit you guys have actual lettuce and tomatoes and onions and, is that mushrooms, fuck this is going to be a _gourmet burger in prison_. Wow.”

Derek feels his lips curve up. Betty the lunch lady is looking at him like a particularly bad piece of meat she has to throw away, yet the kid still seems unfazed.

“Wait,” Derek likes his voice, “hold on a second.” The kid drops his voice to almost a whisper. Derek still doesn’t have to try to hear him. “This meat isn’t…people right? Like it’s not old inmates. I read somewhere that some - ”

“You need to get your fucking food or I’m going to get a guard over here to make you.”

Betty is 72 and has mild arthritis.  One of her grandchildren is here in the prison - the main reason she took the job. Every day she has to see Tommy’s rather depressed face, and Derek swears it kills her a bit each time. She doesn’t have much patience.

The kid stammers a bit before assembling his food and quickly turning around. He watches the kid’s eyes wander around the cafeteria, indecisive and smelling like nerves. Derek is going to face palm if he tries to make friends on the first day. You don’t talk to people at first; they decide to talk to you. If you’re lucky, of course.

The kid clearly doesn’t understand this.

He decides to go sit next to Avery, Martinez, and Whiskers, because the kid is an idiot, and talks the second his plate hits the table.

“Hi. I’m Stiles. New here. Kind of shocked at this food. I’m…” he trails off, half way from sitting down as Avery pushes his tray across the table. It doesn’t fall off, but Stiles has to rush over to make sure it doesn’t tip.

“Right, umm, sorry. You guys probably don’t want to be bothered. See you around,” he waves faux cheerily, and he goes to sit in the corner of the room, crumpling down onto the floor and picking up his burger dejectedly.

Footsteps approaching him capture his attention and Derek turns his head around to see Jorge, a guard, approaching him.

“Straight from the Warden, Hale.” He looks down at the three packets of orange tic-tacs left on his table and smiles. He can smell the envy, jealousy, and bitterness ooze off his fellow inmates and grins as he pops two tic-tacs into his mouth.

He glances over to see if the kid noticed anything from that interaction, and is unsurprised to see him staring straight ahead at the floor and (what looks to be) angrily chewing on his burger.

It’s a shame the new inmates usually try to keep their eyes glued to the floor the first few days. They miss out on clear clues as to who actually runs this place. He feels eyes on him and he glances over to find another one of the new inmates watching him with calculating eyes. As soon as Derek looks the newbie looks away, but Derek can’t help but to mentally pat the dude on the back.

At least that guy’s trying to learn.

 

* * *

 

It probably only took Derek a month to solidify his place in the prison. The guards were the easy part. His family’s life insurance left him with millions of dollars, and seeing as he has a life sentence to carry out, he really doesn’t have much use for it. His lawyer, an old family friend, helped him get his money where it’s really needed. Derek’s not surprised at the corruption of the guards; he’s just surprised how easy it was for them all to fall in line. With a steady extra income of a thousand dollars a month flowing into each of their bank accounts, Derek practically has them in the palm of his hand.

Scratch that, the inmates were the easiest part. Derek kept his head low the first week of his sentence as he worked the system and set up his negotiations with the guards, but it was on his ninth day that his invisibility act ended.

He had been sitting on a bench out on the yard when Deucalion and three of his goonies had approached him.

“Heard you haven’t said a word in five days.”

Deucalion was nothing special. Run of the mill Alpha Male who believed nobody would dare fuck with him given his band of cronies. Derek sighed. Only one of them was an alpha.

“I don’t talk much.” he had replied evenly. He took stock of the three other men and memorized their faces.

“You’re not going to survive in prison by being a loner, Hale. This place doesn’t work like that.”

Derek had raised his eyebrows. “I enjoy being alone actually.”

Deucalion had eyed him suspiciously before sighing and sitting down next to Derek. Derek kept his eyes on the fence across the yard.

“Let me tell you Derek, may I call you Derek, it’s a fucking ecosystem in this yard. Shark eat fish and Dog eat cat.”

Derek wasn’t quite sure if that was the correct use of ecosystem, and also wasn’t quite sure if ‘shark eat fish’ made sense.

“You’re not going to make it on your own, especially with a face as pretty as yours. People are fucked up Derek. I can offer you protection, if you’d like.”

Derek had been expecting this. He overheard this same conversation being had with another inmate not three days ago. The blowjob that followed sounded like Deucalion expected quite a lot of payment for his ‘protection’. The choking sounds alone were enough to make him slightly nauseous.

“How many guys refuse that offer?”

Deucalion laughed at that, as if the idea itself was completely humorous. Which may be fair; to the standard inmate, the deal would probably be worth it. Not only do they get to say ‘don’t fuck with me or you fuck with Deucalion’, but Derek also had a feeling bad things happen to those who refused.

“Not in a long time, Derek.” Deucalion put his hand on Derek’s thigh.

“Thank you for your offer,” Derek said lightly as he moved Deucalion’s hand away. “But I’m going to have to decline. I don’t really need protection.”

Again Deucalion laughed.

“Derek Hale you are new here so I can forgive some confusion. I’m not really asking.”

Derek stood up and turned around, giving a sharp fake laugh that echoed Deucalion’s - whose smile was quickly falling off his face.

“Don’t talk to me again unless I talk to you, Deucalion.” With that, he walked off. Now he just had to wait.

Or at least he thought he would have too. He had hardly made it four steps before he heard one of the goons approaching, and it was easy to slip out of the way and break the guys arm before he even realized Derek sensed him coming. He side stepped the second guy before punching his face and breaking the dude’s nose, and the third guy got a good swing in before Derek tripped his leg, grabbed his flailing wrist as he fell, and broke that too.

Derek could hear guards starting to be alerted to what was happening in the distance, but he still had time to make it to Deucalion, who had just risen from the bench, and knock him to the ground. Derek grabbed his face and mashed it into the dirt before pulling it back and spitting in his face.  The guy looked equal parts terrified and shocked.

“If you ever try to fuck with me again I will break every bone in your body before I kill you.”

The guards turned a blind eye and gave him solitary confinement for a day, not wanting to lose their new income. A punishment so laughable that when he walked out into the yard with a smile on his face every single inmate took notice with wide, shocked eyes.

Deucalion had two men try to sneak up on Derek in the showers the next day, and they both didn’t leave the infirmary for two months. Derek had broke Deucalion’s nose and two fingers for that, warning that he wasn’t going to give the dude another chance. Derek didn’t even get punished for it. Deucalion wouldn’t even stay in the same room as Derek for a year.

So a month may have been wrong. It only took Derek eleven days.

* * *

 

After lunch all of the inmates have three hours to be out in the yard. Sometimes Derek participates in the activities, other times he would just sit off in the corner and feel the sun on his face and listen to the neighboring woods.

It had been funny, back at the beginning, when Derek had decided he wanted to take part in an activity and watch all the inmates go still with apprehension. The first poker game he played he was pretty sure they all were purposefully trying to suck so that nobody would beat him, but he didn’t blame him. That was only four days after he had broke five people’s bones.

Now, Derek moves in and out of basketball, cards, and conversations with ease. Most inmates know that if they don’t fuck with Derek than Derek won’t fuck with them.

He decides to watch today; not wanting to have to split his attention between an activity and watching the new kid enter the yard for the first time.

The kid, _Stiles_ he had said, sort of just stands near the entrance for the firs twenty minutes, eye’s looking longingly at the few card tables set up before looking over towards the group of people huddled together talking.

Derek doesn’t know why, but he’s honest to God fascinated with what this kid’s going to do. Derek really shouldn’t care so much. It doesn’t help that the kid’s absolutely beautiful.

After a bit more time Stiles seems to sigh before going to a spot next to the fence and sitting down alone. Derek doesn’t get involved in any of the new inmates’ business, lets them all make their own mistakes or victories, but he can’t help but to feel slightly anxious for him. He glances over to Deucalion, but he hasn’t seemed to notice Stiles yet.

Derek sets his jaw. Stiles looks young. He looks _unbroken_. Derek knows that’s something Deucalion loves to play with.

He senses somebody approaching Stiles and his eyes snap to Isaac. Isaac probably wasn’t much older than Stiles appears to be now when he entered the prison some four or five years ago. Derek had mended his personal rules and sort of took on a mentor role for the kid at the time. He had to break six more bones from Cyclops’ crew to get them to leave him alone.

Deucalion, after catching wind of Derek’s involvement, didn’t even try.

Stiles notices Isaac walking towards him a little before Derek thought he would, and he also stands before Isaac reaches him. Derek should give him credit for both.

“Welcome to prison dude.”

After a split second of assessment, Stiles’ face splints into a grin.

“Oh thank God, somebody that doesn’t seem like they are majorly constipated. I’m Stiles.” He holds out his hand and Isaac laughs before grabbing it.

Derek misses Isaac introducing himself as he scents the air. He feels nothing from Stiles except a thrum of relief and hopeful cautiousness but he smells a low-grade hum of arousal from Isaac.

Derek will have to talk to him.

“People aren’t very friendly here, huh?” Stiles asks, eyes yet again scanning the yard. Derek briefly wonders if he’s seen him yet or not.

“Nah, we’re not all bad. Who’ve you already met?”

Stiles shrugs. “Not really anybody officially. I tried talking to,” Stiles waves his hand and Isaac’s eyes follows his fingers, “them, but they must have been having a bad day.”

Isaac bristles somewhat, and Derek hopes he warns Stiles off.

“Yeah, definitely don’t talk to those guys. Who’s your cell mate?”

“Some guy named Aidan. Haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh,” Isaac’s face falls. “Well, that’s really bad luck. Dude’s a douche. You shouldn’t - ”

“Isaac,” Derek hears Boyd call, and Isaac turns around to the sound. “What the fuck are you doing we’re starting another game.”

Isaac turns to Stiles with a  smile, “would you like to play?”

Stiles’ whole face lights up.

“Hell yeah man!”

Derek tunes out the rest of the game and stands up to stretch. He debates going to join in on the game, possibly meet Stiles himself, but he settles on working out.

 

* * *

 

Derek hears Aidan join Stiles in their cell sometime around 8. He had been on work service for most of the day.

“Hello, I’m your new roommate. I mean cellmate. Which is kind of morbid, so you can just call me a roommate. Also Stiles! Sorry, my name’s Stiles.”

Derek groans. He wishes he could see what was happening. As it is, Stiles’ cell is on the same strip as his, instead of on the other side.

“Wow, you are going to be annoying.”

That doesn’t seem to deter Stiles.

“Yeah I get that a lot.”

“Umm, okay.”

He hears rustling going on, the sound of a zipper and than a steady stream of what he’s assuming is Aiden’s piss into the toilet.

“Wow okay going to have to get used to that it’s kind of awkward isn’t it?”

“Seriously kid, shut the hell up.”

“Oh…well then. Alright that sounds good.”

The peeing stops. Derek doesn’t hear the zipper go back up.

“I mean… you do have a beautiful mouth though.”

Derek’s hackles rise. He can feel a claw sprout out, already ready to pick his lock if he should need to.

“What?! Hey now? I’m not gay dude! Perfectly okay if you are no judgment but _could you put that away please!_ I took a defense class in college ( _Derek hears a lie_ ) and I will definitely bite.”

He hears some of the inmates near their cell laughing, one even cheering “just give it up kid, you’re going to be doing it eventually.”

Aidan, however, just laughs. Derek calms slightly when he hears the zipper.

“Jeez relax, alright. Not tonight then.”

“Umm, tonight? Try never.”

Aidan doesn’t say a single thing.

At around 10, long after all the inmates are in their cells for the night, Derek finds the paper, pencil, and tape he keeps under his bed and starts righting out a note on his desk. Derek briefly considers just having Stiles transferred into his room, but thinks against it. He doesn’t want to creep him out. He also likes not having a roommate. He did have one when when he first came, but once he had the guards in his pocket that was quick to change.

He tapes the note to the bars of his cell and gives the medal four long taps before returning to his bed.

_Transfer Stiles, the cellmate of Aiden Fabel, and put him in the cell with Vernon Boyd. His cellmate can go to Aiden. Also bring me a few Hershey bars._

He settles down for the night and rests his back against the wall. Stiles only has one night with Aiden. He’s going to make sure nothing comes of it.

* * *

 

**_Day 2_ **

Isaac and Boyd aren’t around the yard the next day, so Stiles takes up his position by the fence again and settles into what seems to be some sun bathing. The moles on his neck, put perfectly in view with the way Stiles is leaning his face towards the sun, are mouthwatering. Derek’s not sure if it’s the wolf in him or his personal tastes in sex, but he would love to bite into that neck and leave his mark behind. With human teeth, of course.

If Derek hadn’t been so wholly enraptured by Stiles’ neck and throat he’s pretty sure he would have seen or smelt or somehow sensed this coming. As it is, he realizes Deucalion, along with Aidan, his twin, and a guy he doesn’t really recognize (must be a new addition to the gang) are walking up to Stiles much later than he would have liked. He stands too. None of them see him.

Unlike Isaac the day before, Stiles doesn’t realize he’s being approached until they are on him. He jerks his eyes open when Deucalion is feet away and hurries to scramble up.

He looks worried.

“Ugh, hey guys. Aidan,” he nods, still, against everything, trying to seem friendly to his cellmate.

“Aah, so you are Stiles. Aidan was just telling me about you,” Deucalion smirks, eyes almost like slits as he grins at Stiles.

“Umm, okay, this is coming off all very godfather like and I’m not really digging it. Who are you again?”

“Deucalion.” Derek almost rolls his eyes. The guy says it like it’s the phrase ‘the president’.

“Well. What can I do for you Deucalion and his little gang of trick-or-treat followers?”

Derek does roll his eyes this time. This kid is an idiot.

“I’ve given this speech to a lot of people, Stiles, usually offering protection and parroting on about lone wolves and such.” Deucalion moves closer, voice dropping till his face is inches away from Stiles. “But I don’t really feel like beating around the bush. How about you and I go into that little hallway between the bathrooms and laundry rooms and I shove my dick down that beautiful mouth of yours.”

Stiles face, which Derek has been watching the whole time, has remained hard and impassive. He almost looks like a different person.

Stiles lays one hand on Deucalion’s chest and roughly shoves him backgrounds.

“I’d rather cut off your dick and shove it down your throat, dude. You need to back the fuck off.”

Deucalion only smiles more.

“God it’s going to feel so good when I break you.”

“How long,” Derek speaks up, causing all of them to snap their faces towards him. He doesn’t look at Stiles, acutely aware that this is probably the first time he is being seen by him. “Are you going to keep doing shit like this? I’ve seen it for ten years now, is it still exciting for you?”

He comes to stand beside Stiles, pushing one hand on Deucalion and shoving him back. He goes quite a bit distance farther this time.

Surprisingly, Stiles is the first one to talk.

“Umm, who the fuck are you? Do I look like a fucking damsel in distress? I can handle this dude.”

 _Ugh_.

Derek really hates his life sometimes. He still doesn’t look at Stiles.

Deucalion’s face is scrunched up with disgust, and he spits on the ground in front of Derek.

Derek crosses his arms; glad he’s wearing a tank top so he can flex his muscles a bit.

“Which part of you do you want me to break this time? Your nose still looks a little crooked, honestly.”

“Fuck you, Hale!” He flips Derek off as he starts to back away. Deucalion’s eyes move to Stiles, opening his mouth before shutting it with a glance at Derek. Good. Seems he’s learned his place.

“You’re Derek fucking Hale?” Derek turns to him, eyebrows raised in what he was hoping would come across as a _your-an-idiot_ way.

“Wow, catch on quick. Who told you?”

“Isaac, yesterday.” Stiles seems to back up a bit, wanting to put more distance between himself and Derek yet not wanting to seem weak or like he was backing down. Derek has to admit - the kid has way more fight in him than he originally thought.

“And what did he have to say about me?”

Stiles swallows, eyes averting away for a second before returning to his. Stiles is still so new, maybe doesn’t know the stories yet. Most of the newbies gradually just learn to fear him.

“That you fucking run this place.”

Derek does a sort of smirk, arms flexing once more.

“He’s not wrong.”

“Look dude, whatever you think I owe you, I don’t. I was handling myself just fine. Fuck off.”

Stiles storms off without looking backgrounds, and Derek seriously felt like punching something. He fucking hated himself sometimes.

* * *

 

“Wait, what do you mean I’m getting transferred?”

Derek was sitting in the same position last night, back against the wall and ears trained.

“You’re moving out buddy, grab your stuff.” Derek smiled, Morrell was handling Stiles’ move. She had a good touch with these things.

“Fucking Hale,” he heard Aidan sneer, shortly before a “what did you just say?” From Stiles. Morrell shushed them both and hurried Stiles out of the cell. Derek watched as she led him across the hall and into Boyd’s cell. It wasn’t directly across from Derek’s, but he could still see into it.

He shimmied down the bed until he was horizontal, wrapping himself into the covers and turning around. Last thing he wanted was for Stiles to catch him staring.

“Umm, do you know what’s going on?” Stiles asks Boyd.

“No, but I have some theories.”

“Care to share with the class?

He imagines Boyd does that shit eating grin he does whenever he knows something other people don’t.

“Nah. We’re going to work out just fine if you don’t talk to me past eleven.”

“Dude,” Stiles sounds relieved, “you’re already so much better than my last room mate.”

* * *

 

**_Day 4_ **

Stiles talked a lot. Emphasis on the _a lot_. Listening in on the yard, his mouth didn’t seem to stop moving. Anytime they played cards, Stiles took it upon himself to half narrate the game and half share random ass stories that nobody seemed to care about too much.

Even when they were playing football, Stiles’ youthful excitement allowed his mouth to get ahead of him. He was a little shit who was very competitive, calling faux-insults and laughing freely at any of his or his teammates’ shortcomings. Honestly, it was beautiful to watch; Stiles’ soft smile morphing from true glee to a devilish smirk within seconds.

Stiles was the first ball of energy and light Derek had seen in many, many years. He couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Fucking sucks that Derek had to make the dude hate him.

* * *

 

**_Day 7_ **

Derek watched them collect Stiles from the yard on his seventh day, and he followed the kid with his ears all the way to the visiting room.

“Hey Dad,” Stiles’ voice sounded rough, the first time Derek has heard it that way during his entire stay.

“Hey Kid, long time no see.”

He heard Stiles give a soft gasp before a short laugh that sounded like he was on the edge of tears.

Derek went to work out; zoning Stiles out during what he figured was a deeply personal conversation.

* * *

 

**_Day 9_ **

Derek likes Stiles’ heartbeat. It was erratic; different, alive and loud just like it’s host. Some days Derek would tune everything else out and sit on the ground with his back towards the fence that bordered the neighboring woods and just listen to it.

Miraculously, given that it was only Stiles’ ninth day, he had already made friends with two of the guards. Derek’s not sure if it’s because they all figured to give Stiles a wide berth after Derek signaled him out as important the first night or if it’s just Stiles’ charismatic attitude that softened them, but Stiles is now allowed to be in the library den during yard hours.

Derek’s not thrilled about this. When Stiles is this far away, inside of the walls while Derek is out of them, he can only listen for his heartbeat. He can’t keep an ear out for those around the kid.

It’s a testament to how often Derek listens in on Stiles’ heartbeat, something so off beat and varying to begin with, that he can pick up on how it stutters when something is wrong.

His eyebrows furrows when he hears it speed up, and then his eyes snap open when he hears three other heartbeats start racing.

Derek is up and off the ground, halfway across the yard in seconds. People turn to look at him race by, and even a few guards stand a bit straighter and put there hands on their batons. He’s knocking people to the ground. He can’t bring himself to care.

“What the fuck is this,” he hears Stiles say at the same time he hears Deucalion say “everybody get out.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Derek, what’s going on? Is there a problem?”

He’s reached the door into the building, using all the restraint he can muster not to knock over the guard.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t. Everybody knows it. If he were somebody else Luke would probably ask him to calm down and signal more guards over. But Luke’s kid got in a pretty bad car accident last year, and Derek’s help was vital in covering the costs of the medical bills. He steps aside and scans Derek in without a word.

He hears the sound of a scuffle, a scream of ‘get off of me’. He’s halfway there, pushing more people out of his way as he fights to keep his fangs from dropping. He hears a sharp cry of pain and a zipper being pulled down.

“If you bite me,” he hears Deucalion sooth, “I will break every one of your fingers and watch every one of these men fuck your pretty little ass.”

Derek bangs into the room and analyzes everything in a split second. Deucalion is standing over Stiles in the corner, Ethan and Aidan behind him holding his hands behind his back and attempting to force Stiles’ face forward and towards Deucalion’s dick. Two other men are standing beside the door turning with shock to look at him, but within seconds he has them both on the ground, most likely breaking either a cheekbone or more noses.

Deucalion turns around quickly, hard dick wobbling in the air pathetically. Ethan and Aidan made a break for it as soon as they saw Derek smash the guys’ nose, and Derek lets them go. He’ll deal with them later.

Deucalion, dumbly, tries to swing at Derek. Seconds later he has his throat in his hands and he’s lifted him feet off the ground. Deucalion is kicking and trying to grab at Derek’s face, but Derek can hardly feel it.

He looks down at Stiles, who’s shaking and looking up at him with wide and frightened eyes.

“Run, get out of here.” He was trying for calm and soothing, but he’s got blood on his hands and he’s choking the guy that was just trying to rape Stiles, so he’s pretty sure he fails. Stiles bolts.

Derek looks back at Deucalion, face starting to go purple, before he drops him to the floor. The dude crumples at his feet, attempting to give his lungs some oxygen through long, horrible sounding gasps.

He does some quick thinking. Honestly, he feels sick.  Sick at Deucalion and sick at himself. This piece of shit has been doing this for years, and it took this long for Derek to realize how truly disgusting it was. What was Derek thinking; not his problem so he shouldn’t care?

He looks down, feeling blind rage course through him. He could have Deucalion transferred. But whatever prison he ends up in Derek’s pretty sure the little snake will find a way to torture another soul.

No. Derek will not let any more people fall at his hand. This sick fuck will not stop while he is still breathing.

Derek bends down and snaps his neck.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s easy to find Stiles. Derek never really stopped listening for him when he ran out. He’s in the corner of one of the showers, still fully clothed and quickly getting soaked. A few naked inmates are standing around him looking unsure and hesitant. One of them, Derek can’t remember his name right now, is crouched next to Stiles and asking him what’s happening.

His shaking is worse now, and his breathing reminds Derek of Deucalion’s breathing moments before; as if all the air has left his lungs and he’s close to dying if he doesn’t regain it.

“Leave,” Derek tells them all. Two of them scramble to leave right away; the third hesitates.

“Should I get somebody?” He asks.

“No.”

The guy looks unsure, and Derek has to decide between threatening him or taking another route.

“Go, I’ve got this. If I can’t handle it I’ll take him to Pete.” The inmate nods once and leaves.

At this point Derek is kneeling next to Stiles, his own clothes completely soaked through, and reaching for the his hands. He thinks better of it at the last moment, and settles for murmuring his name.

“Stiles. How can I help?”

His breathing is horrible and causing goose bumps to break out over Derek’s body. Except – it’s not steady. Stiles is alternating between deep lung fulls and quick, erratic intakes.

“Stiles, hey, listen to me. Stiles!” He shakes him then, and Stiles’ eyes snap upwards. They connect with Derek and he seems to recoil slightly before his hands start pawing at his chest. Derek grips his shoulder with one hand, forcing Stiles to keep his focus on him.

“Breathe with me Stiles. Come on, In. Out. In…out… there you go. Come on…again.”

The kids crying at this point. Derek wouldn’t be able to tell with the shower water pouring down Stiles’ face if it wasn’t for the sharp salty scent that punctures the air.

He has Stiles able to breath calmly a few moments later. Unfortunately, his inability to function seems to be replaced with blind rage. 

“What the fuck!” He screams, arms making an abortive motion before he bangs his fists back against the wall.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!” He’s trembling, oddly distorting himself as he shakes his head back and forth.

“Stiles,” Derek says calmly, backing up slightly – “calm down. You’re okay.”

“Okay?” Being the target of Stiles’ entire focus, when he’s this off edge and coiled up, is uncomfortable. “I’m okay? I almost got fucking raped! How the fuck did you…. Who do you think you are too…” He yells, so loudly that Derek knows he’s attracted attention. Stiles turns again, raises his arms like he’s going to punch the wall. Derek grabs him first.  

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME.”

“Punch me.” He says evenly. He stands, grabbing Stiles under his elbows and pulling him up with him. The kid is surprised, feet scrambling and slipping all over the place on the wet floor. Derek doesn’t let go until Stiles has solid footing; but once he does he’s shoved backwards. Stiles wouldn’t be able to move him if he tried, but Derek allows himself to be pushed.

“Yeah?” Derek taunts. “What the fuck are you going to do about it? Punch me Stiles. Fucking hit me.”

Stiles looks at him like he’s insane and shakes his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he asks vehemently, as if Derek had been the one just trying to force his cock down Stiles’ throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were such a push over. I should – “

The swipe comes quick, harder than he was expecting but he’s slowly learning that Stiles should never be underestimated. He stumbles, and not for show either. He’s impressed. Now that he’s alert, he knows the second punch is coming before it lands. Honestly, it feels kind of good. If this is what Stiles needs then Derek will take it for him.

Stiles can’t keep hitting his face though. Derek heals quickly, and Stiles is too sharp to not realize Derek’s face shouldn’t look pristine if it hosted Stiles’ therapy session. He crowds Stiles up to the wall. He achieves his goal when Stiles starts punching Derek’s abdomen instead, little cries coming out when his fists impact Derek’s stomach.

“Fuck you,” Stiles grits out. He’s slowing down. “Fuck him.” Derek feels his rib crack. He doesn’t know if Stiles notices.

“Fuck.” He slumps forward, freely crying into Derek’s neck, and he wraps his arms around the kid and gently guides them both back to the watery floor.

He feels his ribcage merge back together. The air is no longer filled with the putrid scent of Stiles’ terror and panic.

The kid passes out, face still cushioned into Derek’s neck, not five minutes later.

* * *

 

He takes Stiles to Pete in the infirmary. He wakes briefly as Derek lays him down on a table of towels Pete set up for him. Deucalion’s two men, the two that had been guarding the door, are both in areas blocked off from view by curtains in the far corner. Derek can hear them groaning in pain.

“It’s okay. You’re in the infirmary. It’s alright.”

Stiles’ eyes, only cracked open the smallest bit, lock on to Derek’s for a split second before they close again.

Derek steps away. He eyes Reyes, the guard that let him into the infirmary but needs to ‘monitor’ him while he’s in the room, before making his way to Pete.

He pulls back the curtain to find Pete examining the dude’s nose. The inmate squeaks and attempts to crawl backgrounds off the examination table, an act that comes across equal parts futile and humorous given how he’s handcuffed to both sides of the table.

The guy starts begging Derek to let him be, clearly a coward without his boss around to play top dog.

“Shut up,” Derek commands. The guy falls silent. Derek turns to Pete.

“If you wouldn’t mind tending to Stiles first, that would be great. I’m pretty sure he had a panic attack and I don’t know what he needs. He’s also soaked, so he’ll need to be dried and changed out of his clothes.

Pete and the dude look at him as if he just did an impromptu ballet recital. It makes for an odd sight, especially given the dude has blood running all down his face and his nose is crooked to the right.

“Derek,” Pete says slowly. “I feel like there’s more pressing patients waiting in this room.” The doc side eyes the guys’ nose and Derek smiles and nods his head.

“Yes, but,” and he drops his hand on the inmates thigh, causing another little squeak to be brought out of him. “I bet,” Derek glances at the name on Pete’s chart, “James wouldn’t mind at all if Stiles went first. I’m willing to bet he would prefer it.”

“Yes! I do! The kid needs help!”

Pete gives a long sigh before standing up. He’s about to make his way over to Stiles before Derek catches his arm. He sees Reyes stiffen over in the corner.

“Take an extra ten thousand this month Pete, you deserve it. Maybe take that cruise you’ve been talking about.”

Pete narrows his eyes. Derek slowly nods his head.

“I still have two more for you.”

Ethan and Aidan, faces almost more red than tan, check into the infirmary later that night.

* * *

 

**_Day 10_ **

Derek looks up as Stiles sets his tray down across from him. The kid sits down, glares at his pizza, sighs and pushes it away.

“You know, this is way different than what I thought prison was going to be like.” His eyes skirt up to meet Derek’s before they quickly flicker off to look at the surrounding tables.

“I thought I was going to be hella bored. Like, sit in my cell, stare at the wall, and hate the world level bored.”

“Are you disappointed?” Derek asks, voice a little scratchy. It was the first time he talked since sometime yesterday night.

“No. I wouldn’t mind,” he waves his hand in a vague motion, “yesterday not to have happened, but hey. Could have been worse.”

Derek hums at that, and Stiles finally holds his eye contact for a few seconds before looking away. The little part of Derek, the part that he believes this prison manifested into him, loves that submission. The inability Stiles seems to have right now to even look at Derek. It makes Stiles that much more beautiful.

Granted, he doesn’t know if the kids embarrassed or just truly intimidated.

“Did you kill Deucalion?” Stiles whispers, like he won’t believe the prison’s rumor mill until he hears it from Derek.

“Would you be disappointed if I did?”

Stiles looks down.

“No. That fucker doesn’t deserve to live. If he wasn’t going to get me he would have eventually started on someone else.”

Derek nodded.

“Yes, those were my thoughts.”

Stiles’ gaze turns calculating.

“Why me?” Stiles asks, and Derek just knows this is the question Stiles has been dying to ask since he opened his eyes in the infirmary and he looked at Derek for those few seconds.

When Derek doesn’t speak right away, Stiles rushes to continue.

“I mean, I’ve asked around.” Derek knows this. He’s heard. “And everybody says you used to keep your head down and let everybody else be. That you would spend _weeks_ not talking to anybody. I asked my room mate, who I have through good sources is one of the few people you might call a friend, and he doesn’t remember the last time you so much as pushed somebody. And there must have been dozens, maybe even hundreds, of people like me that have drifted in and out of here for the last ten years. So why me?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking how I knew what was going on yesterday?”

Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I was getting to it!”

“I saw Deucalion and his pack all leave the yard. I followed from a distance.”

“You’re not a very good liar,” Stiles challenges.

And, for the first time in what feels like forever, Derek smiles.  It causes Stiles’ breath to hitch and his eyes to widen.

“I have not heard that in over ten years.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Why me!?” Stiles almost sounds like he’s whining.

“Because you are very different from the usual inmates we get here.” Stiles narrows his eyes, opens his mouth to speak but Derek cuts him off.

“And I think you are beautiful.”

Stiles lets his mouth fall open at that, a beautiful red color overtaking his face. He tries an aborted laugh, like he wants to believe it was a joke, but it trails off. And then starts again. Maybe Stiles laughs when he’s in awkward situations. But then his face closes off instantly, whole body going rigid. Derek instantly tenses too.

A low-grade panic starts to seep out of Stiles, and Derek feels like an idiot that it even took him seconds to realize what was happening.

“Umm, I’m not gay. And you can’t - ”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Stiles. I’m nothing like Deucalion.”

He’s kind of hurt by it, actually. Is that what he comes across as? His mind flashes back to him pinning Deucalion against the wall by his throat, standing over Stiles like some kind of monster. All right, that’s maybe fair on Stiles’ part.

Stiles seems to ease up a bit, short breath coming out of those red lips, but he still seems on edge.

It annoys Derek. “Seriously, fuck off if that’s what you think I am. I wont stop you,” he snaps.

Stiles does. He just stands and leaves without a backwards glance.

* * *

 

**_Day 10_ **

Derek’s in his usual spot, back against the fence that’s facing the woods with his eyes closed when Stiles plops down next time. This kid is unpredictable.

“I’m surprised you want to talk to me.” He mumbles. He doesn’t open his eyes. He feels his elbows being nudged, such a simple and friendly gesture that feels so foreign. Nobody has tried to invade his space like this in years.

“Nah dude, we’re good. I’m not going to apologize for being cautious. Hell, you should applaud me.” Derek smirks. “And I swear by the bro code on our new found best friendship that I will dutifully ignore your huge man boner inducing man crush on me.”

“Oh my god.” It’s really all he has to say.

Stiles is quiet for a few moments. When it becomes clear that Derek has said all he has to say, the kid speaks up.

“So are we good?”

Derek turns to look at him now. The kid has a hopeful expression on, goofy grin to match his mess of hair.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

Stiles laughs a little, elbow sticking out to jab him again, and something warm courses through Derek’s body.

“Oh my god this is so awesome. I’m going to get all of the secrets from the beast that nobody else could ever figure out because he’s hot for my bod.”

Derek really should have known there was no ‘bro code’ with Stiles.

“First off, did you know they call you the beast? Super unoriginal name if you ask me.”

“I did.”

“Oh my god, who’s the unfortunate soul that said it to your face? Is he still here?”

“Dude named Patches. I tore his throat out.”

“Oh,” Stiles murmurs, eyes going a little wide.

Derek cracks up. Stiles smiles too and shoots him a fake glare.

“Oh my God I hate you so much. Okay, on to bigger questions. What are you in here for?”

The smile leaves Derek’s face instantly, and Stiles immediately tenses.

“Oh my god I’m sorry pretend I didn’t ask! Wow that was dumb of me - ”

“Stiles,” Derek shushes him. “It’s fine. Would rather not talk about it though.”

“That’s fair, that’s fair. Okay. Different question. I wanted to ask you how you became so good at hand to hand combat; I figured you had to be some secret spy agent or maybe like a trained hit man? But now I realize that that could be related to why you are in here, which I’ve found to be a sore subject, and now I am realizing I probably shouldn’t have voiced any of this to you.” There was a pause. “So, umm. Sorry.”

Derek shakes his head. Forget the walls of this prison; Derek has never, ever met somebody like Stiles in his whole life.

“Why are you in here?” Derek asks. He already knows the answer; he just wants to see if Stiles is willing to tell him.

“Got caught selling some pot to a friend. It was only a few ounces though, so jokes on me. I’ve got myself six months here.”

Derek tries not to think about that.

“How old are you?”

“21. You?”

“I’m 29.”

“Fuck yes!” Stiles fist pumps the air. Derek looks at him like he’s crazy. “Boyd was guessing 31 but I said there was no way you were in your thirties yet.”

After a few more moments Stiles asks – “you don’t talk very much, do you?”

“I talk.”

Stiles grins. “Yeah but not _a lot_ right.”

“I suppose not. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, let me tell you about this time I jumped out of a fourth story window during my senior year of high school.”

* * *

 

**Day 13**

“What’s your favorite food?” Stiles asks. They moved away from the fence today, sitting off at one of the tables and playing some card game Stiles is teaching him.

“Steak.”

Stiles hums. “Typical.”

“Yours?”

Derek didn’t think it would be the start of a two-hour long conversation of literally every food Stiles can think of, but he’s hardly bothered by it. He spends most of the time imagining whatever food Stiles is currently talking about would look like as it enters his mouth.

* * *

 

**Day 15**

They’re playing the card game again when Stiles mentions wishing they could find two more people to play with them so Stiles could teach Derek a new four play game.

Derek looks around, not really wanting to include most of the people he sees, so he stores it for later use. He has Boyd and Isaac’s work schedule switched around, and instead of having work time while Stiles and Derek are in the yard, he moves them so that they could join them.

Stiles looks at Derek with awe the next day. He can’t help but to feel smug.

* * *

 

**Day 17**

“You transferred me out of Aidan’s room my first night, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Stiles pauses, nodding his head after a few moments.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

**Day 20**

They are making their way to their spot by the fence when Doug, an inmate Derek never really paid any attention to, approaches them.

“Hey, did you guys want to join in on a football game?”

Stiles instantly smiles. Since his time with Derek, he’s noticed the kids’ almost cut off everybody but the people Derek talks too (see Isaac and Boyd).

“Hell yeah! Derek’s on my team.”

“Hmm, that’s okay,” he says. “I’ll sit this one out.”

“What? Dude, come on! It’ll be amazing. You can kick their asses and it will be _awesome_.”

“Go on, it’s been awhile since I worked out anyway.”

“Uh oh, old married couple are about to fight over here,” Isaac murmurs, already starting to leave to go join the game.

“Hey! I resent that! I’m not gay!” Stiles yells after him.

Derek want’s to face palm.

“Just go Stiles.”

He does eventually. It’s actually kind of nice, Derek thinks to himself as he starts doing pull-ups. He hasn’t exerted himself nearly as much since Stiles arrived, and it feels good to start to feel some kind of resistance on his muscles.

He slows down, for show really, once he hits sixty pull-ups. He stops at 75. He could probably go to around 250, but he doesn’t want to seem inhuman. He strips off his shirt as he grabs a fifty-pound dumbbell before he hears Isaac yell at Stiles.

“Could you keep your eyes on the fucking game dude.”

He glances over and Stiles is already glaring at Isaac.

“Fuck you dude,” he hears the kid tell him.

Derek wonders what Stiles got distracted by. He doesn’t rejoin Derek when he’s finished an hour later. The game disbanded fifteen minutes ago, but Stiles seems to be sticking to Boyd’s side for the time being.

Derek shrugs and leaves to go to the shower. Stiles finds him later that night, chatting away about the history of football as some of the inmates settle down for this months activity. It’s a screening of Die Hard, and Derek briefly wonders if that’s appropriate to play in their environment. Stiles loves it though, whispering trivia facts to Derek the entire time.

Somebody tries shushing him fifteen minutes into the movie, and Rodriguez, who Derek never really liked, actually turns around ten minutes later to tell Stiles to shut up.

Derek leans forward, raises his eyebrows, and asks Rodriguez to repeat himself. The man apologizes.

“You were saying,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles looks at him like he just cured the common cold.

* * *

 

**Day 27**

Stiles is really sad today. They are in their usual spot in the yard, have been for twenty minutes, and Stiles hasn’t said a word.

“Hey,” Derek goes for encouraging, and he thinks he just might succeed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What? Where are we going?”

Derek stands and pulls Stiles with him, putting a hand on his back and leading him towards the entrance back into the building. When he gets to Reyes he leans into her ear and asks to be taken to the employee room on the fourth floor. It’s hardly ever used.

Stiles lights up a bit as he looks around the room. It’s nothing much; a standard staff room with a little kitchenette in the corner and a couch with a flat screen TV on the wall.

“Let’s just watch some TV, whatever you want?” He says, leading Stiles to the couch. The kid allows himself to be steered, making grabby hands for the remote and flipping through the channels. He finally decides on some show called Adventure Time (which Derek thinks is royally stupid). He doesn’t smell as sad, though, so Derek is appeased.

The scent is back a few hours later, and Derek’s at a lost for what to do.

“Derek,” Stiles murmurs. Derek turns his head.

“Could we maybe…and like no homo here of course and you can say no all you want…but could we…cuddle?”

That was not what he was expecting to hear.

“Cuddle?”

“Yeah. Like could I - ”

“Sure,” Derek says, probably too quickly by the way Stiles smiles at him. Derek watches as he scoots closer, curling up so his head falls on Derek’s shoulder. Derek wraps his arm around Stiles’ back and Stiles threads a hand into Derek’s shirt.

It might be another hour or so later when Stiles speaks up again.

“I just can’t believe I fucked up my life, Derek. Six whole months away from everybody I know and a criminal record.”

Oh. So it’s one of _those_ days.

“Don’t compare your life to the cookie cutter one you were told to have, Stiles. Nobody has a perfect life. There’s a lot waiting for you out there. This doesn’t define you.”

“That’s…actually really good advice.”

Derek smiles and tightens his arm. Stiles snuggles a little closer.

* * *

 

**Day 33**

Oh God, he can hear it perfectly. He started zoning in on Stiles when he heard his heart beating faster, and he instantly regrets it.

It’s late -probably past midnight. Boyd’s heartbeat is steady as he sleeps, completely unaware of what’s happening in the bed above him.

Derek can hear little short breaths come out of Stiles’ mouth as his hands slide up and down his dick. Derek doesn’t feel as bad as he thinks he should as he reaches into his own pants and pulls himself out.

Stiles is really into it, and Derek’s already so close. He finds his release when he smells Stiles’.

* * *

 

**Day 45**

“Derek?”

He’s instantly alert. Stiles doesn’t usually start a conversation with his name unless it’s something big.

“Yes?”

“Let’s be room mates.”

Derek widens his eyes.

“What?”

“Come on. You transferred me once so you can do it again. It’ll be fun!”

Derek’s not sure. If he has to wake up to the sounds of Stiles touching himself in the middle of the night he’s pretty sure he’s going to die of blue balls. He already jacks himself off enough as it is these days. He’s the epitome of control, but Stiles is turning out to be the exception.

Does he trust himself?

In the end, he doesn’t really have a choice. The little brat knows how to use that sad, pouty little face perfectly.

* * *

 

**Day 46**

He doesn’t think he’s imagined Stiles’ quick glances and lingering touches, and he’s been catching whiffs of Stiles’ arousal more and more often.

He’s not sure what’s going to happen the first night. He sits down on his bed, the bottom bunk, and Stiles, hesitating for a second, climbs up into his own. They talk for maybe ten minutes before the kid’s speech starts to slow and he soon drifts off.

It’s comforting, being this close to him. Derek falls asleep quicker than he has in years.

* * *

 

**Day 48**

Derek was reading a book, causally lying with his back to the wall, when he started to smell it. Nerves, mixed with a hum of sweet arousal, started to seep out of Stiles’ skin. He was standing by the bars, taping a beat into the metal as he looked out into the prison. It was getting late, maybe a half hour until lights out, and inmates were bound to get annoyed with his taping soon. They would never dare say anything, but Derek might help them out and ask Stiles to stop if he persisted.

Stiles scent grew stronger after a few minutes. Derek almost couldn’t breathe with how intoxicating it smelt.

“Where do you keep that sheet?”

He’s talking about the sheet me made the guards give him when he wants privacy. Sometimes it gets to be too much for Derek, all those inmates on the opposite side of the room being able to see into his cell.

Derek hums, pushing himself till he was sitting on the edge of the bed, two feet plastered on the floor. He reaches under the bed and grabs it, along with the two clips that connect it to the bars.

The kid grabs them and Derek notices Stiles avoiding his eye. His cheeks are red. Derek’s heart starts beating faster.

The kid makes quick work of setting up the sheets and blocking out the rest of the prison. He hears somebody mutter about faggots, and can hear Boyd laughing. When Stiles is done he turns on the fan (another one of Derek’s requests, it can get very hot), pushing it away from them and turning it on to its highest speed. Coincidentally, it’s very loud.

“Stiles?” Derek voices. “You’re freaking me out.”

The kid smiles at him, coming to stand over him before kneeling down right between Derek’s spread legs in front of the bed. Both of their hearts are beating wildly.

“Stiles? What are you doing, I don’t expect - ”

“I know you don’t.”

He braces his hands on the inside of Derek’s thigh; slowly massaging up and down. Derek’s already half hard and getting harder the more he sees Stiles on his knees in front of him. Since Derek’s sitting, Stiles’ face is quite close to his, so Derek grabs his chin and forces Stiles to look at him. His blush just darkens.

“Stiles?”

“I’m not doing this because I think I have to Derek. I…I want to. And you’ve been so fucking good to me and I just want you to…” He trails off, biting his lip. Fuck. His _mouth_.

“I thought you weren’t gay?” Derek asks. Maybe he even pleads, he doesn’t know. He feels helpless right now, Stiles’ hands keep rubbing closer and closer to his dick. He’s fully hard now, and when Stiles glances down to see the bulge he’s making he hears the kids pulse skyrocket and smells the strongest wave of arousal he’s ever smelt.

“I mean I’ve thought about it before,” Stiles says as one hand finally reaches for Derek. He pads the head of Derek’s dick with a few fingers, before gripping it through Derek’s sweat pants. “I’ve never actually done anything with a guy, but hey; you got to try everything once, right?”

He leans down, puts his mouth right over the wet spot Derek’s already made of his pants and sucks. Derek groans. Stiles leans back and dips his fingers around the fabric at the front of Derek’s pants, stops and looks up at him.

“Please Derek. Let me do this for you.”

Fuck, as if he would ever say no to that.   

“Alright. Okay.” He lifts his butt up and pushes his sweats down, before Stiles grabs them and pools them around his feet.

Stiles takes one look at his dick and groans, scooting a bit forward till his messy brown hair is tickling Derek’s chin. A warm hand wraps around his dick and Derek moans. God, if this is just Stiles’ hand than his mouth is going to _ruin_ him.

“Derek…you’re so big. Oh my god.” Derek doesn’t have anything to say to that, hoping his size isn’t causing Stiles to have second thoughts. It seems it doesn’t though, Stiles lowers his face a bit and Derek leans back onto his hands a bit so he can see how beautiful he looks so close to the head of his dick.

A small little bead of precum leaks out of the tip. Stiles moans again, as if somebody is about to suck his dick, before he lowers his mouth and gives a little kitten lick at the very tip.

Fuck, it’s a wet warmth that feels amazing; especially knowing it’s Stiles _tasting_ him. He looks up all of a sudden, face so close to Derek’s dick and smiles. Derek feels powerless as Stiles looks right at him and starts to mouth at his head, mixing his steady supply of precum with Stiles’ spit.

“Fuck Stiles. You look so good sucking on my cock.”

Two things happen at once. Stiles’ face colors beautifully while another wave of pure arousal soaks the air.

“Shit, you like that don’t you.” Derek moves his hand to thread into Stiles’ hair, mindful of not being too demanding. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but the arousal gets thicker yet; and when Derek finally pushes on Stiles’ head, seeking to push more than just his tip in, Derek feels like he could honestly choke on how heady the air has become.

Slowly but surely Stiles works more and more of himself inside of that beautiful mouth. Derek doesn’t know what’s better, the warm wet slide or the image his cock makes as it appears and then quickly disappears between Stiles’ red lips.

“Fuck Stiles, you’re so fucking good at this. I wish you could suck on my dick all day long.”

Stiles moans and picks up the pace. God this kid is going to be the death of him. He hears Stiles wrestling with his own pants and starts to fist his dick. It’s yet another beautiful sight.

Derek has been guiding him with his hand this whole time, and he thinks Stiles is up for the challenge so he decides to go for it. The kid has stopped trying to go lower, and during the next time Stiles begins his slide back up Derek’s shaft, Derek stops him.

“Fuck Stiles, I know you can do it. Just a bit lower, okay.” He pushes down a bit, Stiles slipping that much farther onto his cock. Derek can feel his dick hit the entrance to Stiles’ throat. Before he can push any farther Stiles starts choking.

“Shit! Shit Stiles I’m - ”

“It’s okay,” Stiles whispers, voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “Don’t worry. I liked it. I…keep doing it.”

How is this kid real?

Derek nods before threading his hand back into Stiles hair and guiding his mouth back where he wants it. Stiles opens up willingly, and Derek is engulfed again by the greatest thing he’s felt in a decade.

Derek’s close. Fuck, he’s been close this whole time but he’s trying so hard to make it last. He stops Stiles again, pushing until he feels the kid’s throat and than _holy shit_ he’s inside it, all velvety warmth and muscle spasms.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He grits out.

 _Oh_. He can smell Stiles’ release as he paints the floor with it, and Derek takes Stiles adding his cum soaked hand to Derek’s cock to simultaneously suck and jerk him permission enough. He holds Stiles head as he thrusts up and than just lets go.

Derek watches Stiles’ throat as he swallows his cum. He’s not even close to being done (it’s quite the orgasm) and he has to fight to keep his eyes open. Some of his cum is slipping out of Stiles’ mouth down his dick, but the kid is quick to suck it back into his mouth on his next slide down.

Derek’s hands fall from Stiles’ head to land on the bed. He might be shaking. Stiles pulls off, thin line of spit or cum connecting his swollen lips with Derek’s dick. Derek needs to ask for a camera.

“I ugh, kind of came.”

Derek looks down at the floor, at Stiles’ flogging dick, and back up to him.

“You’re amazing.”

“Can I kiss you?” Stiles blurts. Derek grabs the back of his neck and hauls him in.

 

* * *

 

Later, about an hour after lights out and most of the prison is probably asleep, Derek has Stiles’ face pressed up against his chest. Derek has his chin resting on the top of Stiles’ head and an arm holding him close. He feels…really fucking good.

“Thank you.”

“Keep rubbing my back like that and it will be payment enough,” Stiles says drowsily into his skin. Since they had the sheet up Stiles convinced Derek to sleep naked. Not that convinced was the right word, Derek’s pretty sure he would do almost anything if a naked Stiles was involved.

“I think you may have a praise kink, just so you know,” Derek chuckles.

“Thank you captain obvious. I’ve been learning a lot about my kinks the past few weeks if you haven’t noticed.”

“Well you sucked dick like a champ.”

“Oh my God Derek I’m supposed to be the smug and talkative one.”

Derek wakes up the next morning to something warm across his nipples. He looks down to see Stiles sucking on it.

“Jesus Christ Stiles.”

The little shit looks up, lips already starting to look swollen.

“Ugh finally you’re up.” He leans forward and captures Derek’s mouth in a kiss. It’s not a very good one; Derek can’t keep a smile off his face.

“I had your dick in my mouth last night.” Stiles murmurs against his lips.

“I know you did.”

“Is it bad that I want it again?”

And before Derek can even process what Stiles just said he feels his cock, which he woke up with rock hard, being engulfed by that wonderful mouth again.

He looks down and groans. Best fucking sight ever.

* * *

 

**Days 50 -59**

It becomes a thing. Derek will return the favor, but four out of five times Stiles just wants to go to town on Derek.

Like, multiple times a day.

For example, he will be showering when Stiles waltzes in and all bets are off. The other inmates see him, glance at Derek, and practically scramble in their haste to leave. A minute later and Stiles will be on his knees in front of him jacking off while he chokes himself on Derek’s dick.

Sometimes they are too lazy to put the sheet up at night. They’ll be cuddling, Stiles’ own bed long forgotten, when Stiles will start kissing his way down Derek’s chest and under the covers.

Perhaps the most memorable occasion was when they were all huddled in the make shift movie theater watching another film. This time it was the Avengers. While Stiles was clearly enjoying the movie, Derek couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Stiles hadn’t woken him up with a blowjob that morning. And they _were_ in the back row. Jameson was probably ten seats down from them, and Derek knew that the guard at the back door of the room would be watching too but…

He had leaned over, ghosted his breath against Stiles’ ears and got exactly what he wanted. He saw Jameson pull out his dick and start fisting himself when Stiles started to choke himself, and he could smell Jameson’s release as he watched Stiles’ throat swallow down all of Derek’s cum.

* * *

 

**Day 62**

It was probably around one in the morning when Stiles turns to him one night and leans up for a small kiss before resting his head back against the pillow. Derek stares into his eyes. He knows a question is coming. He’s been laying here wondering why Stiles hasn’t fallen asleep for the past two hours.

“Will you tell me now?” He whispers, voice so quiet Derek doesn’t think he would have heard it if he weren’t a werewolf.

He looks so soft, so open and trusting and _admiring_ , and Derek just hurts. The kid’s so pure yet he’s getting wrapped up with somebody as fucked up as Derek.

Stiles brings a hand up to his face, lightly rubbing his stubble before he starts running it through Derek’s hair. It feels good.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Derek whispers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” comes Stiles’ reply. “I just want you to know that I care. I’m not asking cause I’m nosy or curious, I’m asking because it’s a part of you.”

Fuck. That’s pretty much exactly why Derek shouldn’t tell him.

“When I was fifteen I fell in love with an older women. She was… I don’t know. Everything I thought I wanted. She burned down my house with my entire family inside it when I was seventeen.”

Stiles, who was trying to keep a straight, supportive face, gasps. “Derek,” he says, as if his heart is breaking for him. “Oh my god.”

Derek smiles. He supposes it’s probably the ugliest smile that’s ever crossed his face.

“And then she got away with framing me for it.”

“Derek…no. Oh my god… _Derek_.”

“Don’t…you don’t have to say anything. That was twelve years ago. I can live with that pain now.”

“But…how did she get away with it? The court didn’t believe you?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t testify. I…let it happen. I thought I deserved it.”

Stiles is quiet after that. Derek’s trying not to breathe through his nose; the complete wreck of emotions Stiles is emitting almost makes him want to cry. He’s not about to do something he hasn’t done in a decade. He can control his fucking emotions.

Stiles starts to move away from him, and Derek is instantly alert. Does Stiles think he’s pathetic? Or worse, does he think he’s a monster for introducing to his family their eventual killer?

“What are you,” he begins, but Stiles just quickly shakes his head. Once he’s untangled from Derek and the covers he makes a beeline for the toilet, propping up the seat and throwing up his dinner.

He gets up too; putting a hand on Stiles’ back and starts rubbing in what he hopes is comforting circles. Maybe Stiles is getting the flu? Derek’s pretty sure he would have smelt it by now, so it’s likely Stiles is reacting to what Derek just told him.

“Oh my god Derek. Oh my god. You… you’re _whole_ family?”

Derek recoils, vaulting away from Stiles like he’s been shocked. He’s so fucking stupid. He knows he doesn’t deserve anything even close to Stiles. These past few weeks, fuck; he should have known it wouldn’t last. This isn’t his life. He doesn’t get to wake up next to someone he… _fuck_.

He needs to control himself and assess the situation.

“Do you want me to move you out?” His tone is flat, neutral. He shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe a part of him knew this was coming all along.

He’s not sure if Stiles heard him. He can smell the tears that are spilling from Stiles’ eyes, and he can smell the most putrid wave of sadness he’s smelt in years. The kid is probably regretting everything he’s ever done with Derek. From the touches to the late night cuddles, Stiles is probably sick at himself for sleeping with a monster.

“Oh my God,” he repeats, shaking, like it’s the only thing he can get through his mouth right now. Like every other fucking thing he’s thinking is too hard to vocalize.

“Fuck Stiles, sorry I’m not the perfect fucking hero you wanted,” and he knows he’s angry now, and that he should really get a hold of himself. He was just so… _happy_ , for a while. Maybe it’s for the better he doesn’t have this. He doesn’t deserve it.

“What?” The kid spits, turning away from the toilet and looking at Derek like he’s insane. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Just…now you know. I can have you moved tomorrow.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You couldn’t _force_ me to leave you.” Derek pauses. _What?_

“There’s no way you’re staying if the thought of me makes you fucking _sick_ , Stiles.”

“The thought of…oh my god, No! No, no, no, no! I’m not disgusted at you, I’m disgusted at whoever this bitch is that killed your family and made you believe that it was your fault. Fuck Derek,” Stiles comes closer, fresh waves of tears sliding down his face.

“Derek,” he mumbles again before he throws himself into Derek’s arms, gripping him so tightly he’s sure he’d have bruises if he weren’t a werewolf.

This…was unexpected.

“Stiles… it is my fault though.”

“No,” Stiles says into his chest. “You were sixteen Derek. She flat out manipulated you and used you. You are as much a victim as everybody else was. Jesus Christ _Derek_.”

“Why the fuck do you care so much?” And he really shouldn’t get defensive. Stiles doesn’t hate him, doesn’t think he’s a monster. He’s so fucking confused right now.

“It’s hard to hear that somebody I love went through probably the worst possible experience I’ve ever heard of, Derek. And I’ve heard a lot of them - Sheriff father, remember?”

Derek feels the exact moment Stiles realizes what he just said.

“You love me?” Derek whispers. He’s almost thirty. He should be able to process this.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, the shock of admitting it out loud seeming to ebb the flow of his tears and dull the sadness that’s been leaking out of his body. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

He pauses for a moment. “Fuck, sorry I handled that so badly. We have a lot of talking to do but I kind of feel like I’ve just run a marathon and want to go to bed.”

He voices it like a question, like he’s afraid Derek won’t want Stiles in his bed.

“Yeah,” Derek finds himself saying. He’s at his limit for words today, he’s decided. And he’s at his limit for talking about his emotions for the whole fucking _year_.

Stiles guides him into bed, curls up next to him and presses in close. He entangles their legs, entangles their arms and hands, and Derek almost wonders where he begins and Stiles ends.

When he’s just about at the brink of sleep he hears Stiles murmur, “thank you for telling me, Derek.” As well as another _I love you_.

Derek wonders why he can’t bring himself to say it back.

* * *

 

**Days 63-68**

It’s stilted in the morning. Derek’s up before Stiles is; he’s lounging on the other side of the bed reading his book. Well he was attempting to read. The only thing he accomplished was replaying last night’s conversation over and over in his head.

Stiles wakes, looks over at Derek and yawns. He crawls over to where Derek is sitting and puts his head in his lap, dragging the covers over him. Derek wonders what he’s doing for a few moments before he realizes Stiles is going back to sleep. On his lap.

He pauses for a fraction of a second before he puts his hand in Stiles’ hair and starts running his fingers across the kid’s scalp. He hears a tiny hum of appreciation till sleep takes Stiles again.

Later, after lunch, Stiles plops down next to him in the yard and completely throws Derek a curve ball.

“How many sisters did you have,” he asks, as if it’s not a big deal. As if before last night Derek hadn’t talked about his family in over ten years.

“Two.”

“Wow. And brothers?”

“Two.”

“Hmm. Who was the oldest?” Derek expects a stab of pain to shoot him at the memory of Laura. And while it definitely aches, it’s not as overpowering as Derek remembers.

“Laura.”

“Was she as grumpy as you?”

Derek glares. “No. She was evil, though.”

Stiles’ smile is small and warm, and Derek thinks that if he could crawl inside of it he would.

“Tell me some stories about her.”

“Stiles, no, you don’t - ”

“Shut the fuck up, Derek.” He cuts him off. “I’m instigating some tough love here. I’m going to bet you haven’t talked about your family in _years_. And, news flash, it’s quite important to remember them.”

“You think I don’t remember - ”

“Of course you remember, Derek,” Stiles sighs. “You’re almost thirty years old, don’t even try to twist my words right now. So either you tell me some fucking stories about your family or...well I guess I’m not going to force you to do anything. But...please?”

And that’s all it took.

Stiles asks about a new family member every single day. Sometimes, like when he talks about his mother, it would take an hour just to get through one story. Derek would have to keep stopping, keep parsing through things he wanted to say in his head for what felt like hours at a time.

Stiles, usually so energetic and unable to sit in one place for long, never said a word or moved an inch while he waited for Derek to figure out what he wanted to say. It was becoming a pattern with Stiles, this feeling…good around him. _Relieved_.

* * *

 

**Day 70**

“Do you not want to fuck me?”

Derek choked on his cereal, hands beating his chest as he stares wide-eyed at Stiles. The little shit has a grin on his face like he planned the whole thing, and Derek almost believes that the kid wasn’t serious, that it was all just a joke.

“What?” He spits out.

Stiles just shrugs and puts down his spoon.

“I’m just wondering why you haven’t asked yet? I mean you are quite, quite into the blowjobs, but…are you like, not full gay?”

“Fully gay?” Derek repeats. This conversation was doomed from the start.

“Yeah…is that not a thing? Sorry if I’m being insensitive here I just have no idea.”

“It’s not a…well maybe for some people….what? Is this you asking to be fucked,” Derek asks, a note of hysteria in his voice.

Stiles’ smile is _pure evil_.

“I’m simply trying to figure out where your heads at.”

“Of course I want to fuck you,” Derek grits out. Why Stiles would think for even a second he wouldn’t want that is beyond him. And… _Oh_. Stiles’ scent spikes. He’s definitely interested. Well, maybe two can play at that game.

“But I would never actually do it,” he murmurs, directing his attention back to his cereal. Stiles’ scent sours.

“Wait, what? Why? That makes no sense? This isn’t you still beating your self up is it?”

Derek shrugs and glances at Stiles.

“Nah. Nothing like that.”

“Than why won’t you fuck me!?”

He says it loudly. A few inmates turn to look at them with wide eyes. They turn back around when Derek glares at them.

“Why do you care, it’s not like you were _asking_ for it?”

And he’s trying really hard to act casual and to not smirk. And Damnit, he’s usually a really good actor. But he can smell the exact moment Stiles sees right through him.

“You’re not funny, Derek Hale.” His warm voice is pitched low, seductive. Derek suppresses a shiver. “We both know you want to fuck me.”

“I do. But we both know you want it just as bad.”

Stiles doesn’t. Or at least, Derek can’t conceive that he would. Being able to be Stiles’ first, in that department, actually makes Derek ache.

Stiles’ cheeks color a tiny bit, and Derek counts it as a win.

“Just to forewarn you I know next to nothing about man sex, by the way.”

“Man sex?” Fuck how did he go and end up loving somebody that says man sex.

Yeah, he admits it. He loves Stiles. And the kid really deserves to know.

“Yeah. Man sex. Butt sex. The anal. Whatever you want to call it.”

Derek sighs. “Well, you’re going to have to give Reyes a few days to get the stuff.”

“The stuff?” Stiles repeats, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah. Lube and a douche.”

“A douche?”

“To clean yourself Stiles, jeez.”

“Umm, I don’t really know how to do that. When I was reading up on horror prison stories it seemed that people didn’t really care all that much about….yeah.”

“Good thing we are not a horror story.” Stiles’ answering smile is blinding.

“Eh, this whole thing will probably not happen then. It’s going to be extremely unattractive if you have to teach me how to use this thing.”

“Erica will help you.”

“Oh my God she’s going to have a field day with this.”

* * *

 

**Day 72**

Derek is about to join Stiles in bed for the night when Erica walks by and throws a note into their cell. It reads: _Got the stuff. I’ll pick Stiles up tomorrow at two and I’ll have somebody escort you to a conjugal room. Hope you have lots of fun._ There was a heart at the end. At least Stiles would like that.

He turns to see Stiles already watching him.

“We’re all ready, aren’t we?”

Derek slips in beside him and nods his head.

“Yeah.” He hands Stiles the note.

“Well it’s about time.”

“Stiles,” Derek starts. He should say it. Stiles uses it freely now, saying it maybe once or twice a day. And each time he does, Derek is filled with a warm feeling unlike anything else. He want’s Stiles to feel that too. God, all it takes is to say three words and he can give that to Stiles. Why was it so hard?

“I know, I know, you’ll stop if I ask and yes I’m completely sure and ready and blah blah blah.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Oh. Are you having second doubts?”

“What? _No_. Oh my god.”

“Oh. What?”

“I mean I was eventually going to ask if you were sure and that all you had to do was tell me -”

“Okay, yes, got it,” Stiles interrupts as he rolls his eyes. “Now what were you going to say before?”

“I just,” Derek huffs. This went smoother in his head. “Wanted to say something before both of our heads get cloudy tomorrow with sex.”

“Okay,” Stiles starts slowly. Derek has his entire attention. “And what would that be?”

“Umm, never mind. It’s not important.”

He’s about to turn away when Stiles’ hand slides to cup his cheek.

“Say it Derek. _Please_.”

“I just wanted you to know…” _here it goes, deep breath_. “That I love you too.”

Few things have caused Derek true joy in his life. But the sweet, warm, vanilla scent of Stiles’ happiness is one of them.

* * *

 

**Day 73**

Derek wipes his palms on his pants for what feels like the fifth time in five minutes. He has no fucking reason to be this nervous. He’s put a handful of people in the hospital and even killed a serial rapist, yet some 21-year-old kid is almost making his hands shake.

He hears the door open and he spins around. Stiles, cheeks only softly touched by a red brush, steps into the room with an air of anxious excitement. Shit, Derek must really be distracted if he didn’t even hear or smell Stiles coming.

“So,” Stiles starts, “that was a very weird experience. And you’re paying for all the therapy Erica is going to put me through.” He comes closer, hand coming up to curl around Derek’s neck. “But I’m all ready for you big guy.”

Derek’s hands start at Stiles’ lower back before slowly venturing lower, eventually cupping his butt. Stiles drops his head onto Derek’s shoulder, moaning and starting to push his crotch up against Derek’s.

Throwing caution to the wind, Derek slips both of his hands under the waistband and pulls apart Stiles’ cheeks. He presses one finger, just a light touch, to Stiles’ entrance.

“Derek,” Stiles moans, seeming to both push back and jolt away from the finger. Derek shushes him, leaning down to capture Stiles’ lips. He doesn’t push his finger in yet, opting instead to just massage the entrance.

Stiles’ hands move to Derek’s dick, cupping him through his pants before starting to pull them down so he can wrap his hand around him. Derek knew it was coming; yet he still gives an appreciative moan when Stiles slips away from his hands and kneels down. The heat of Stiles’ mouth encases his dick, and his hands- which were previously being kept captive with Sitles’ ass - entangle themselves into the kid’s hair.

Derek doesn’t even hesitate when he grabs Stiles’ mouth and pushes forward, forcing his dick farther down his mouth till it’s nestled up against his throat. Stiles moans, like Derek knew he would, and it feels amazing.

He pulls away, much to Stiles’ displeasure, and leans down to grab him. He tosses, literally picks up and throws the kid down onto the bed, and Stiles’ scent spikes yet again.

“Strip,” Derek commands. Stiles does it without blinking an eye.

“Yes please, yes please, yes please,” he mutters as he shimmies out of his pants. “It’s dicking time.”

Derek should be embarrassed for him, really, maybe exasperated, but all that comes out is a wave of fondness.

Derek also strips his clothes, grabs the lube from the table and returns to Stiles.

“Knee’s up and spread your legs.”

Stiles does so, flush finally coloring his face in a wave of red. Derek puts a knee on the bed before grabbing Stiles under his and pushing them up towards Stiles’ body. It puts his rim on perfect display.

“Perfect, Stiles. Fuck.”

“Derek you need to touch me right now. I need you to fucking - ”

He groans and cuts himself short when Derek lubes up two fingers and press them both in at the same time. The kid already had to get a finger or two up there to douche, so he assumes it’s okay.

But fuck if he isn’t tight. And if he thought Stiles’ mouth was warm, the kid is burning up on the inside.

“You’re being so good for me,” he whispers to Stiles. “Opening up for me and getting ready for my cock.”

“Ugh, Derek. _Please_.”

He crooks his fingers a bit; Stiles bites his lips. Which, while hot, is not what Derek is looking for. He finds it seconds later.

“Holy shit! Derek, right there.”

“Obviously,” He teases, pushing against that spot a few times until Stiles is loose enough to slip a third finger in.

“Don’t be a…holy shit…a dick.”

“I thought you wanted the dick.”

Stiles huffs.

“No blow jobs for you buddy, I can say - ” Stiles yelps as Derek quickly pulls out his fingers and flips him around. His ass is beautiful, and Stiles _was_ being a mouthy little shit…

He gives it a slap. Nothing hard, just a quick smack on one of the cheeks. Honestly, Derek is an idiot at this point. Why he’s surprised by Stiles’ arousal is beyond him.

“You like that?” Derek asks aloud. He doesn’t even bother to try and keep the wonder out of his voice.

“I hate you,” Stiles mumbles into the pillow. Even if Derek couldn’t hear the lie Stiles is giving himself away by arching his ass up for him.

He spanks it again, a bit harder this time. “Don’t lie to me,” he growls.

“Fuck Derek, how are you real?”

Another spank.

“Wh-what was that one for?”

“Because I like spanking you.”

Derek watches a shiver run down Stiles’ spine before the kid presses his ass back again.

“Please…put something in me.”

He complies, stuffing him full of three fingers again and pushing between Stiles’ shoulder blades till he’s flush against the bed.

“How am I real?” Derek mutters, doesn’t even care he’s saying it aloud. “How are you real? Fucking perfect, Stiles. Displaying your ass to me like a fucking _present_. Fucking trembling because you want my cock in you so bad.”

“Derek, please. I’m ready. Please.”

“No you’re not, not for me.”

Stiles scent burns.

“Yes, yes I am. I want it to sting a little. Please, please, please. I’ll do anything. Just please.”

Derek honestly doesn’t think Stiles even realizes he’s begging. He’s that caught up in the moment. So he goes for it. He nudges his cockhead up against Stiles’ entrance and he pushes in. Stiles arches his back and Derek pushes him back down with his body, settling over top the younger man and pushing till he’s entirely inside him.

“Oh god, Derek, hold on. It hurts. Wait - ”

“Shh, I’ve got you. I know, hold on. Relax Stiles,” The kid is clenching around his dick, and it’s taking everything Derek has to not just hump the shit out of him. He slides a hand down to where they are joined, prodding it with a finger and taking some of the pain away. Derek is grateful Stiles’ face is mashed into the pillows.

“Oh – oh wow. I got used to that fast.” Stiles says with wonder.

Derek starts grinding into him then, pulling out slowly before cantering his hips to almost move Stiles’ whole body forward. He hooks his chin around Stiles’ shoulder to keep him still.

Fuck, Stiles is loud. High, breathy moans fall out of his mouth every time Derek pushes forward. Stiles doesn’t seem to be able to not clench down, working Derek’s cock as if this was his 1000th time instead of his first.

“You okay,” Derek asks, just because he want’s to be sure. He adds, “I love you,” because he realizes he needs to; needs to make Stiles realizes how beautiful he is to Derek.

Stiles gasps, pushing back into Derek and moaning. “I love…you t-too. Fuck Derek this is amazing.”

The praise makes Derek think of something. He settles a hand on Stiles’ hip to stop him and than slips out.

“Wait what,” Stiles’ mouth is instantly going. “Why are you stopping, get back, hey - ” Derek grabs him and flips him, manhandles Stiles until he’s straddling Derek. Stiles looks down at him with wide eyes.

“I want you to ride me,” Derek challenges.

“Umm, I’ve never done that before. I’ll probably look super awkward…”

Derek smiles, hand going to rub at Stiles’ thigh. Derek should have thought of this sooner. If Stiles loves to be praised, Derek isn’t going to deny him the satisfaction.

He lifts Stiles up and down closer to his Dick, and Stiles automatically sits up on his knees. Derek guides him down, moaning himself when he’s pressed up against Stiles’ rim and then pushing past the muscle and plunging inside.

Stiles is now fully sitting on Derek’s cock, shaky hands resting on Derek’s chest, and Derek almost cums from just the sight.

“That’s it, now up and down, fuck yeah Stiles just like that. Fuck, knew you would be a natural at this; riding my cock as if you were fucking made for it.”

Derek watches as Stiles’ dick strains even higher, beads of precum leaking out of his slit. A rose colored flush, the first one since when Stiles first walked into the room, paints Stiles a beautiful color.

Stiles’ hands are trembling on Derek’s chest. The kid is speeding up, fucking himself shamelessly on Derek’s cock. It feels amazing. Derek is going to get addicted to that tight heat clenching down around him.

He reaches a hand for Stiles’ dick and starts to jerk it as he grabs Stiles’ hip with the other and lifts his own up. Stiles’ eyes snap open, little moans escaping him each time Derek rolls his hips. The first splatter of cum across his chest surprises him. He figured Stiles would warn him, but, then again, the kid isn’t really in the headspace to talk right now.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek murmurs. Stiles’ load is pretty big today, coating a decent portion of Derek’s stomach. He goes to lift Stiles off of him when he’s finished cumming, but Stiles quickly shakes his head.

“No,” he whines, still working Derek’s cock with his hips. “Want you to cum in me. Please Derek, I need - ”

“Shh, it’s okay. I will, I will.” He sits up, stays inside Stiles as he leads the kid onto his back. Stiles looks surprised for a second before he grins. He’s starting to get hard again. Derek pushes his knees up till he’s got a clear view of Stiles’ entrance and then starts to pick up the pace again.

Stiles is fully hard within seconds, hands scrambling at Derek’s shoulders as Derek keeps pounding away into him.

“Close,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear. He hears more than see’s Stiles reaching down to jerk his cock again.

All it takes is another small _please_ from Stiles before Derek loses his rhythm and starts spurting in him. He presses forward till he’s all the way in, pushing his hips in little forward thrusts without really ever going anywhere.

He grins as Stiles comes all over himself.  

“Should have known I could make you cum twice.”

“Honestly, I should have seen that coming too. Oh my god.”

“If we waited here for a bit do you think you can go again?”

“Derek, your dick is _magic_. I could go as long as you’re still going.”

They don’t make it back to their cell until fifteen minutes after lights out. Reyes has to use a fucking flashlight.

* * *

 

**Day 92**

“Today was supposed to be my half day mark,” Stiles says casually a few weeks later. It’s nothing but casual.

“I know.”

Derek’s been moody today. He knows he’s doing it and he should be grateful for the time they had and still have together. He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Wait, supposed to be?”

Stiles sighs, looking away out at the other tables in the cafeteria. He leaves his food untouched.

“Yeah. They said they are letting me out a month and a half early on probation. Something about the overcrowding of prisons due to marijuana related shit. And it was my first offense, so…”

Derek grits his teeth and nods. He wonders where he was when Stiles heard this news? Usually his ears don’t fail him. Perhaps he was in the shower.

Derek does the only thing he knows how to do.

He stands up and throws his tray into the garbage, leaving Stiles behind as he heads out into the yard. He works out for four solid hours, the entire time he’s there, and he’s so exhausted that when he returns to their cell before Stiles it only takes him minutes to pass out.

He wakes up sometime in the early morning with Stiles nestled between his arms. He wonders how he didn’t wake up when Stiles very clearly had to do some manhandling to get himself plastered to Derek’s chest like this, but he supposes it’s been a long time now since his brain processed the kid as any kind of threat. If anything, he’s an extension of Derek’s personal space.

He doesn’t get much sleep after that, but he doesn’t really mind. He could and does spend hours watching the young man nestled in his arms.

Stiles wakes up about a half hour before they unlock the cell doors and usher everybody on to where they need to be. He looks up, wide-eyed and yawning at Derek – fingers digging into his shirt as if Derek was trying to escape- before smiling.

“Were you watching me sleep again?”

“Maybe.”

Stiles’ smile gets bigger and he lets out a little laugh. The smile falls off his face as he seems to prepare himself for something.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

Derek’s taken aback; eye’s going wide as he sort of unconsciously shuffles away from Stiles.

“No, hear me out! What do you want more, for me to leave and only be able to see you when I visit or to get you the fuck out of here Derek. Where we could see each other every fucking day. And you could be _free_.”

Derek’s brain isn’t working. “You’re going to visit me…after?”

Stiles groans and drops his head on Derek’s chest. Multiple times.

“You’re. Such. An. Idiot. Of course I’m visiting you! I’m not exactly going to leave my boyfriend here to rot by himself!”

“Boyfriend?”

“You’re lucky I know this is because you think don’t deserve nice things and not that you don’t want it, otherwise I would be very hurt by that. Yes we are dating. I figured the I love you’s and your cum up my ass would be enough of a clue.”

“You want to keep seeing me…after…”

Annnnd some more banging of Stiles’ head against his chest.

“No. I mean yes. But I’m getting you _out_ Derek, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You would spend your life on the run with me?”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. This conversation is spiraling so far out of control. No Derek! We’re doing this legally!”

Derek pauses.

“As in…”

“Yes. I’m already taking this year off of school so I’m going to be needing something to occupy my time. And that is – I’m going to find the best fucking lawyer there is, talk him or her through everything you told me, introduce the two of you so you can tell him or her even more, and help nail Kate Argent into the ground for what she did.”

Derek stares.

“Well, the goal is more to prove your innocence, I don’t actually have any idea where Kate is. But I’ll definitely be looking into it.”

…

“You need to say something Derek.”

“I’m…I don’t know if I can.” Derek can read between the lines, he knows Stiles wants him to testify and tell the truth to a courtroom full of people. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more terrified in his life.

Stiles brushes a hand over his face and leans up to kiss him. He’s quiet for a while, thinking. Derek is too. Could this work? It seems impossible, yet… he knows there’s a video that puts him at the movie theater right when the incident was happening. Would it be enough? And besides that, could Derek really admit that he slept with the murderer of his family in front of a courtroom of people?

“I always wanted to live near the beach,” Stiles murmurs, hand still stroking Derek’s stubble. “On weekends we could go there and be lazy all day long. We’d get a dog, since it would probably recognize you as the dog whisperer instantly, and you’d have it so perfectly trained that we wouldn’t even have to leash him. He’d be running around, let’s go with Scrappy for now, barking and wagging his tail and I would get you to rub suntan lotion on my back since I burn so easily. You’d play Frisbee with him for a while, then get bored and pick me up and throw me into the ocean. Scrappy will be right there, jumping into the waves and barking in our faces while we laughed.”

He pauses then, wipes away at a tear that Derek didn’t even realize he blinked out of his eye.

“Then we’d go home. Make homemade pizza because that sounds so good right now and curl up in front of the TV. We’d continue watching whatever TV show I’m forcing you to watch since you’ve missed like a decade of amazing television. You’d probably get horny halfway through though and fuck me on the couch. Probably fall asleep not to long after either, and Scrappy will of course steal the crusts I never eat after we passed out.”

He pauses then, tears now leaking out of his own eyes. Derek’s not surprised anymore. Stiles feels too much, he thinks. He’s too good at putting himself in other people’s shoes.

“Fuck Derek, at least try. Please. Cause right now I don’t know if I can bear walking out of these walls and knowing you’ll never be walking out with me.”

Derek thinks this is all crazy, that he could be getting his hopes up for nothing, but he just nods.

“Okay,” and he mashes their lips together.

“Oh wait,” Stiles pulls away. “Before this gets too heated, one more thing. Me and my Dad don’t really have the money to pay for a hot shot lawyer so -”

“Yes, of course,” Derek breaths out. He just wants to get back to kissing Stiles. “I’ll have Deaton transfer a few million dollars into your account as soon as possible.”

“What no, oh my God, _millions_? How much do you have? Never mind, don’t answer that.”

“I don’t want you to spend a dime of your own money on me Stiles. Besides,” he smirks, “you can just repay me with that mouth of yours.”

 

* * *

 

**Day 98**

John Stilinski is the type of man that demands respect. Derek’s nervous, hands a bit clammy as Stiles leads him towards the table that his father is sitting at. The kid is all bubbly excitement. John stands when they reach the table and Stiles drops Derek’s hand to pull his father into a hug.

“You must be Derek,” Stiles’ Dad smiles as he extends his hand.

“Yes Sir, nice to meet you,” he forces out, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels. He gives a firm handshake, very mindful of John’s equally strong grip.

“Please, John will be just fine. Stiles has told me a lot about you.”

Derek knows. He’s been listening. Stiles talks about Derek as if he was the second coming.

“I hope it’s been good things, Sir. I mean John.” Derek shakes his head, cursing himself as he hears Stiles laugh. He gives him a glare.

“See dad! Adorable.”

Derek sighs.

Later, he asks Stiles if he still thinks he’s adorable as he has the kid bent over the bed and almost screaming into the sheets. He’s pounding him; short, hard thrusts that take Stiles’ breath away.

“What was that? How adorable is this?” He grabs Stiles’ hips, pulling him back as he pushes in. He circles his hips, still pushing forward, and Stiles cums all over the bed.

He pulls out, turns Stiles around till his ass hits the floor and Derek’s standing over him and proceeds to cum all over the kid’s face.

Stiles just smirks as his tongue pokes out to slurp up what hit his lips.

“It’s adorable that you were still thinking about it four hours later.”

Derek slaps him across the cheek with his dick and Stiles moans. They start round two shortly after.

* * *

 

**Day 104**

Derek hands thread through Stiles hair as he watches Stiles mouth at the tip of his dick. He’s straining, Stiles has been teasing him all fucking morning, and he’s about to push Stiles head down to finally get some relief when Stiles sits up.

“Are you ever going to tell me your secret?”

Derek tenses, eyes going wide as he gives Stiles a calculating look. No way could he know…

“What do you mean?”

“Derek, I’m not dumb. I know you’re not…normal, okay. Remember when I thought you were possibly a secret agent?”

Derek nods.

“Well, I’ve ruled that out.” It’s hard to think, even though Stiles’ mouth is talking to him, he’s keeping his hands preoccupied by slowly sliding up and down Derek’s dick.

“See, that would explain your blatantly _unreal_ reflexes and fighting abilities, but it wouldn’t explain how you know _so_ fucking much.”

Derek finally swats Stiles’ hand away from his dick, sitting up so he’s inches away from Stiles’ face as Stiles moves to straddle Derek’s lap.

“You really want to have this conversation now?”

“Yeah. I do. Sometimes you know things that you shouldn’t Derek. And I don’t care, whatever it is, it’s you and I love it. I just want to know.”

“What do you mean know things I shouldn’t?”

“At first I thought it was mind reading, but than I realized I had to say it out loud for you to know. And by out loud, I mean almost anywhere in the fucking building. A month ago I had a conversation with Boyd about the pros and cons of each Fantastic Four superpower. In the library. Where you weren’t. And then I asked you later that night and you casually agree with what I had to say about the human torch as if I had already told you. Which I didn’t.”

Fuck. Derek remembers that now. Wow he was stupid.

“And that would explain how you knew I was being attacked. Because really Derek, the whole randomly following Deucalion story was the worst cover up I had ever heard. So what is it? I was thinking mutant, like maybe along the lines of X-men? Super hearing and super strength? You took out five guys, Derek, without even getting a scratch?”

Stiles finishes and stares at him with a determined glare. This kid is the sharpest person he’s ever met. Derek was completely prepared to hide it his whole life, maybe make an excuse every few full moons to find somewhere to shift and run.

He didn’t want to risk losing Stiles.

He should have known better.

“I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles looks at him, eyes narrowed, before the skepticism falls off his face and is replaced with a smile.

“That’s hot.” And within seconds he’s choking himself on Derek’s dick again.

He shows him his beta shift sometime later. Stiles is fascinated by it. The next week is spent with Stiles quizzing him on everything he knows about the supernatural world. One night Stiles asks what happens to Derek’s dick when he shifts.

“Not much, it just gets a bit bigger,” Derek murmurs, already half asleep. His eyes snap open when the heady scent of Stiles’ arousal fills his nose.

“Bigger?” Stiles almost whispers. “I don’t believe that.”

And that’s how they end up fucking, Derek shifted and growling at Stiles the next day. The kid cums on his cock four times in a row.

* * *

 

**Day 106**

Stiles’ fork hits his plate and Derek’s eyes shoot up to find his.

“Oh my god, that’s why? Why she did it…because she knew what you were?”

Derek nods. Isaac and Boyd both look very confused, each pausing their bites into their chicken nuggets to raise identical eyebrows.

“Did we miss something?”

Derek watches a shiver pass through Stiles’ body before the kid picks up his fork and attacks his pasta salad again.

“No. Was just realizing how fucking stupid and dumb and _bigoted_ some people can be,” he says as he stabs a noodle rather violently.

“That’s rather specific,” Isaac ventures.

Both Derek and Stiles ignore him.

* * *

 

**Day 110**

“You heard what they told me?” Stiles asks as they head over to their usual spot against the fence.

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “They want you to leave next week.”

Stiles nods. “Feels kind of weird. Actually, no, _really_ weird. Feels like I’m leaving my home again.”

“How the fuck did this prison start to feel like a home to you?” Derek asks.

“What? It didn’t. I was talking about you.”

* * *

 

**His Last Day**

Derek goes slow the night before Stiles leaves. Usually it’s fast and hard, just how Sitles likes it; but Derek want’s to take his time tonight. He wants to pull Stiles apart and put him back together with his hips, sort of like how the kid did to him. Stiles is writhing underneath him, looking up at Derek with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I love you,” Derek tells him as he pushes in again, staying there for now so he can lean down and kiss Stiles.

Stiles looks up at Derek and smiles.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” the kid whimpers, threading his hands into Derek’s hair and kissing him back.

Derek appreciates the sentiment, but he can’t help feeling like he means that sentence more.

* * *

 

_Dear Derek,_

_Holy shit I’m writing you a letter. Who the fuck does that? Anyway, it’s been five days since I’ve seen you and I’ve already made so much progress. I found a lawyer, her name is Annalise and she’s a fucking badass. When I explained everything to her (don’t worry I left out the wolfy parts ;) ) she instantly agreed to represent you. And guess what, she got the footage of you at the theater the very next day! You looked so sad and cute as you were being stood up, by the way. I just wanted to give you a hug. Annalise thought so too._

_You two will get along great. She’s not very forward with her emotions, like you (except when you’re with me cause I’m your kryptonite or wolfs bane or whatever), and she also kind of has a resting bitch face._

_Anyway, I fucking miss you like crazy and will visit you next week as soon as possible._

_Love you, Stiles._

_P.S. – I bought a dildo. It has nothing on you._

_P.S.S – I found a few apartments for you around Berkeley…if you don’t want to live close to me while I finish up college that’s totally understandable. We can talk about it when I see you._

_P.S.S.S. – I love you. Hold on to that while I work on getting you out of there._

* * *

 

Derek’s really bored in the weeks that follow. He sees Stiles probably twice a week, but it’s a new form of torture. Watching him leave is only bearable because Derek knows Stiles is going straight home to work more on his case.

“We found a video of Kate purchasing six gallons of gas, gloves, and some matches five days before the fire at a gas station,” Stiles tells him one day as they are wrapped up in each other.

“When this happens…will Kate be there?” It’s a thought that’s been haunting Derek often.

“No, this case is about proving your innocence. The evidence will be stacked up against Kate though. It should be a one two punch, your story combined with Kate’s. Annalise already said she’ll pursue Kate’s conviction when you’re free. The bitch is currently in Texas right now.”

“Okay.” Derek pushes his head into Stiles hair and just breaths in.

* * *

 

Derek kind of feels numb as he’s given his suit, changes, and led out of the prison. He watches the highway, the outside world for the first time; pass by him with little more than indifference. He’s already locking his emotions into him. He’ll feel free; he’ll let himself see the outside world _only_ when the judge and the court rule it. Until then, Derek can’t allow himself to believe he has it for a few hours only for it to be taken away from him again.

Annalise, to use Stiles’ words, really is a badass. She starts by calling Derek up to the stand, and then proceeds to tell the jury exactly what happened a decade ago.

“Thirteen years ago this man refused to testify and save himself from a life in prison. He refused to admit that he was innocent, that he never murdered his family. You all have been informed what happened.” Annalise drawls as she moves up and down the line of jurors.

“It’s time this man stops punishing himself and tells the truth.”

Derek tells his story. He focuses on Stiles, on the way he looks amazing in his suite and his soft, encouraging smile. He doesn’t take his eyes off him once.

He tells them about meeting Kate Argent, this beautiful older women who instantly took a liking to a sixteen-year-old boy. He tells them about the feud Kate had with his parents, the only fabricated lie in the entire story. About how he went to the movie theater that night, waiting for an hour before going home to a sea of cop cars and a text that read ‘ _thank you for all the help, Derek_.’

Annalise proceeds to show the courtroom the video of him waiting in the theater. It’s the first time Derek’s seen it. He must have relived that moment a thousand times in his dreams. There’s a noticeable turn in the atmosphere as the video plays. Seeing the video, actual proof of Derek’s location, has pity and shock leaking out of the jurors and everybody else.

Annalise then pulls out phone records, showing everybody the exact texts Derek had just spoken of. She reads more.

“On December 5th, twenty days before the fire, Kate Argent sent Derek a text that read ‘What’s your plans for Christmas?’ To which Derek had replied ‘a lot of my family is coming up for the day but I could probably slip out after dinner?’

She then shows the video of Kate purchasing gasoline, matches and gloves a few days before the fire.

When she’s done, the entire courtroom is silent. Annalise waits a few moments, probably for dramatic effect because the whole courtroom isn’t moving a muscle by now, before giving a big sigh.

She turns to Derek.

“I’m sure there’s only one thing left unanswered, Derek. Why didn’t you tell everybody this all those years ago? There’s so much hard evidence, hard proof of your innocence that I would be shocked to believe you would have lost any case a decade ago.”

Derek has to clear his throat before he talks.

“I thought I deserved it. I introduced my family to the person that would kill them all. I may not have lit the match, but I pretty much killed my family.”

Annalise shakes her head and sighs.

“Believe me Derek, I know a lot about guilt. And believe me when I tell you that nothing that happened that day was your fault. You were just as much a victim as the rest of your family.”

With that she sits down. The jury only deliberates for ten minutes before they all come back out. A lot of them have red eyes.

He’s got Stiles’ arms around him minutes later. And, for the firs time in years, he cries.

“Yeah, fuck Derek, let it out. You’re free. You’re free. _You’re_ _free_.”

 

* * *

 

**_Five years later_ **

Derek’s looking out at the ocean, sun slowly setting behind the waves, when Stiles comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist.  Scrappy comes with him, barking into the water and chasing who knows what.

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asks him, breath ghosting his ear and causing goose bumps to prickle his skin.

“What I’m going to put on the pizza,” Derek jokes, successfully brining a laugh out of Stiles.

“Really?”

“No. I was thinking about when I first met you.”

“Best day of your life, am I right?”

“No, not really.”

Stiles pulls back a little and Derek turns around to pull him back in.

“Every new day with you get’s better and better.”

Stiles blushes and laughs, hands wrapping around Derek’s neck and pushing their foreheads together.

“Take me home?”

Derek nods, moving to entangle Stiles’ hands with his own and calling for Scrappy to follow.

He’s pretty sure he was promised, some five years ago, that he could fuck Stiles on the couch and not get scolded for interrupting their TV show. He’s going to cash in on that promise.

* * *

 

 **“Love lets you find those hidden places in another person, even the ones they didn’t know were there, even the ones they wouldn’t have thought to call beautiful” –** Hilary T Smith.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> A few things  
> \- Deaton, as the next member on the Hale family's health insurance, received all of the money after Derek's conviction. He of course funneled it all back to Derek.  
> \- I read up that people call young looking guys 'kid' in prison. Just in case you were confused by the continued use of the word.  
> \- Did you like it? :D


End file.
